


Symbolization

by bolby



Series: Klance Week Fics [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Not all heroes wear capes, classic keith, its ok tho flower boy lance will clear the air, keith hates flowers bc they dont like him, sorta side allura/shiro but only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bolby/pseuds/bolby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith didn’t really do flowers. The only time he’d ever tried to form some kind of relationship with them was when Shiro had bought him a tiny red flower, an Anthura-something, which, despite trying his best, Keith had ultimately seen wilt under his care. He just couldn’t take care of them, and to be completely honest, he didn’t see the point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symbolization

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt for this one is Red/Blue. i hope y'all like it!!

“You dragged me _all the way downtown_ on my day off,” clarified Keith slowly, staring up at a sign reading Garden Galaxy, “to buy _flowers_ for a _girl_.” 

Next to him, Shiro rolled his eyes. “She’s not just _a_ girl, Keith. She’s _my_ girl.” He smiled, striding into the flower shop. “Allura likes flowers, and I like Allura. What more reason do I need?” 

Keith didn’t really  _do_ flowers. The only time he’d ever tried to form some kind of relationship with them was when Shiro had bought him a tiny red flower, an Anthura-something, which, despite trying his best, Keith had ultimately seen wilt under his care. He just couldn’t take care of them, and to be completely honest, he didn’t see the point. They died in a matter of weeks, if not days, and they didn’t even serve any purpose. They just _looked_ pretty–until they began to stagger, that is, all gray and gloomy. 

“Alright, Keith, I’ll try not to take too long,” Shiro assured him, catching the attention of the larger boy behind the counter, who happily chatted with Shiro about different flowers and their care regimens. Left to his own devices, Keith wandered, eyeing the brightly colored petals and painted pots. 

“Hey–Keith, right? I’m Lance. You looking to buy some flowers?” 

Keith glanced up at the employee approaching him. He was lanky, had brown hair, and the most brilliant pair of blue eyes Keith had ever seen. He gestured to Shiro, clearing his throat. “Uh, no, I’m just here with my friend.” 

Lance nodded, giving Keith a thumbs up. “Alright, cool. Lemme know if you need any help, yeah?” 

As Lance turned and began to walk back behind the counter, Keith glanced at the nearest flower, blurting, “What’s this flower?” Silently, he cursed his damn mouth. But the guy was attractive, and Keith didn’t want to just wander around the shop mindlessly. 

Lance blinked, following Keith’s gaze, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “That,” He said, “is a Chrysanthemum.” 

“Oh,” Keith responded smartly. “Long name.” 

Lance snickered, and Keith’s cheeks _flushed_ , of all things. “Yeah, sure is. They symbolize joy and optimism. The Japanese associate it with perfection, harmony–some people believe putting a petal at the bottom of your wine glass will encourage a long and healthy life.” 

“What?” Keith frowned. “It’s just a flower. It can’t do all of that.” 

“No flower is _just_ a flower,” responded Lance, indignant. 

How could a single petal from this Chrysanthewhatever possibly lead to a longer life? And what, exactly, was so joyous or optimistic about a damn plant? Keith’s doubt must’ve shown on his face, because Lance crossed his arms, frowning. “Pick another one,” Lance ordered, puffing up his chest. “I’ll show you that every flower is unique.” 

Playing along, Keith pointed to a pink flower near Lance. “That one.” 

“That’s a peony,” said Lance, matter-of-factly. “They’re a popular wedding flower, because they’re thought to be an omen for good fortune and a happy marriage. Generally, though, they symbolize riches and honor.” 

Keith shook his head in disbelief. Lance couldn’t possibly expect him to believe that placing peonies around a wedding could lead to a prosperous marriage. It was just a _flower_!  To think that a plant could have any influence on your life whatsoever was just naive. 

Lance laughed, and Keith realized he must’ve said that last bit out loud. “I can vouch for the power of the flower,” Lance insisted. “Sure, maybe they can’t grant you a long, prosperous life, but flowers have definitely _changed_ my life.” Keith stayed silent, watching Lance’s passion grow, reluctantly intrigued. “For example!” Lance stepped closer to Keith, plucking a daisy from a small vase on the shelf near him. “I buy sunflowers when I’m sad. I mean, it’s in the name–they’re warm and happy. Historically, they’re adored for being both beautiful and useful–oil and food and whatnot.” He tucked the daisy back into the vase, moving to brush his fingers against the petal of a pink carnation. “When I miss my family–my mom’s world renowned hugs, specifically–I buy carnations. They’re famously a mother’s day flower. Biblically, it’s said that the Virgin Mary’s tears caused the first carnation to sprout out of the ground. Kind of a stretch, but to each his own.” Lance smiled fondly, moving along to a flower whose petals seemed to reach up towards him. “I buy this one, a lot, too. When something happens in my life, a big change or paradigm shift or something, I buy these protea as… a reminder, I guess. Change is okay. See,” Lance lifted a protea out of its vase, inhaling it, “there was this guy, Proteus. He knew everything–past, present, and future. Smart dude. To keep his knowledge safe, he would always change his form–color, size, shape, _everything_. He could be more than fourteen hundred different things! Protea are like that, too–they can look all sorts of ways, be all kinds of colors and shapes and sizes. They help to remind me that changes aren’t always so bad.” Lance glanced up and the smile that followed absolutely floored Keith. “Oh,” Lance added, gentle smile reaching into a grin, “and of course, I always have a few ranunculi around.” 

Keith swallowed, hoping he didn’t look as star-struck as he felt. “What’s that one mean?” 

“I am dazzled by your charms,” Lance winked, and between his dazzling blues and his melodic voice, to say Keith was dazzled was a vast understatement.

 Putting aside Lance’s frustratingly charismatic smile, Keith was genuinely surprised and impressed. Each flower Lance touched seemed more complex, more _alive,_ even _._ Keith really didn’t know anything about flowers, at all. Why would he? Keith’s garden was the ring, a pair of boxing gloves, and a sturdy punching bag. That’s where _he_ felt more relaxed. This flower shop… Keith supposed this was Lance’s boxing ring. He certainly knew his stuff. 

“How do you know all of this?” he inquired. 

Lance shrugged, smile remaining on his lips, a glimmer dancing in his eyes. “My grandma ran a place like this when I was younger. I’d close my eyes and point to a flower, and she’d tell me all about it. She always knew everything about every flower in there–I guess it all stuck.” His gaze softened. “She was so passionate about her flowers. I wanted to understand what was so great about a stem and some petals.” He shrugged, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his apron. The flower shop logo, a sunflower and a star, shifted on the front of the pocket as his hands found their place. “Somewhere along the way, I guess I did.” Lance scratched the back of his neck, laughing in a nervous sort of way, his cheeks dusted with pink. His eyes flickered up to meet Keith’s, and did he mention Lance was damn attractive? 

Keith opened his mouth to respond, taking a step forward, when Shiro called his name. He was holding an elaborate bouquet, grinning over the head of a sunflower. “I’m all finished! Want to go?” 

Ah, right. That’s why he was there in the first place. Keith nodded, but before he left, he turned to Lance. “I think your grandma would have been really impressed,” he blurted, and before he could make any other stupid comments, he thanked Lance and turned to leave. 

“Any time, Keith,” Lance’s words rolled off of his tongue in a way which Keith found incredibly alluring, “my pleasure.” 

Keith spun on his heel and high-tailed after Shiro. 

Once they were a ways down the street, Shiro glanced at him, curiosity alight in his eyes. “You talked to that guy for a while.” 

Keith shrugged. “We just talked about flowers.” He paused, his hands finding the pockets of his jeans. “They’re… kind of amazing.” At Shiro’s surprised look, Keith flushed. “I don’t know. Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Laughing, Shiro shook his head. “No, they’re amazing, they are! I’m just… surprised you think so. You weren’t particularly interested in them before.” He stares at Keith, considering. “So… did you get his number?” 

Sputtering, Keith nearly tripped over a slab of concrete askew in the sidewalk. “I-whuh- _why_ would you-” After a brief stare-down in which Shiro’s expression grew more disapproving with every passing second, Keith heaved a sigh. “Ugh, fine, no. I didn’t.” He was quiet for a moment before mumbling thoughtfully, “But I’m gonna.” 

* * *

Keith liked to think of himself as being a pretty brave guy. Hell, he punched and got punched for a living. No opponent had ever rendered him a nervous wreck–nobody but Lance the fucking flower boy, that is. 

The bell sang at Keith’s entrance and Lance looked up, raising his brows in surprise, a grin stretching across his face. “Keith!” He exclaimed. His excitement somehow helped ebb away at Keith’s anxiousness. “You came back. Are you here to revel in my endless knowledge?” Lance winked. 

“Something like that,” Keith responded, handing Lance a list he’d written up. “I need a bouquet, with these specific flowers.” 

Lance collected his bouquet into an armful of brilliant reds, dazzling blues, and lovely purple, a mixture of ranunculi, roses, and lilac. See, Keith had planned it all out. Red ranunculi, to convey just how dazzled Keith was by Lance; blue roses, as a symbol of immediate and passionate attraction and admiration; and purple lilac, representative of first love. (Alright, so the idea hadn’t been entirely his. Shiro and his big mouth had told Allura all about Keith’s interest in Lance the flower boy, and, alas, her wild imagination and skills with persuasion somehow managed to coax Keith into following through with his interest). 

Lance surveys the bouquet with a fine eye, glancing up at Keith with a quirked eyebrow. “This is an awfully romantic bouquet you’ve chosen, buddy,” he commented, shooting for nonchalant and missing horribly, “you going on a date?” 

“Hopefully,” mumbled Keith. 

Lance’s hands fumbled momentarily as he wrapped the stems, and once he was satisfied with his work, Lance handed the bouquet across the counter. As he ran and returned Keith’s card, he gave a small wave. “Good luck on your date which is possibly happening, but also possibly not. I’m a little unclear on that bit. Good luck either way, though. Not that, uh-” Lance cleared his throat, blushing, “not that you need it.” 

Keith swallowed. “Well, let’s find out.” He handed the bouquet back over the counter, pushing it towards Lance, flushing furiously. He forced himself to look into Lance’s eyes–a difficult task, indeed; those blues were a force to be reckoned with–and, unable to maintain steady composure, sputtered, “Tonight are you free tonight?” 

Lance’s eyes widened and, after a moment of stricken silence, he covered his mouth with his hand and _giggled_ , god damn him. “You said tonight twice.” 

Keith prayed to whatever god may exist to smite him right there in that forsaken flower shop. “Tonight,” he tried again, ever a trooper, “are you free?” 

Lance considered him through star-struck eyes before burying his face in the bouquet. When he lifted his face, a goofy grin shone back at Keith. “You’re asking me out.” 

Exasperated and increasingly embarrassed, Keith threw up his hands. “Yes, god damn it! Are you free or not?” 

Lance’s smile fell tragically from his features as he glanced at the clock. “Shit, I want to be, I do, but I’m covering the late shift and locking up tonight-” 

Hunk’s head peeked out from the back room, looking entirely unamused. Had he heard this whole thing? Keith wanted to die. “I’ll cover for you, man.” 

Lance gaped for a moment before grinning widely, blowing Hunk a kiss. “You’re my hero, Hunk!” 

“Anything to speed this conversation up,” Hunk responded disinterestedly, disappearing into the back room once more. 

Lance tore his apron off and shoved it underneath the counter before sliding across and landing flush in front of Keith. He looked up at Keith, bouquet still cradled in his arms, beaming. “So, where are we going?” 

Keith couldn’t seem to formulate a proper sentence at the moment, but Lance takes his hand and for the first time throughout this whole ordeal, Keith felt absolutely sure of himself. “Anywhere.” 


End file.
